A Slice of Life
by Little.Old.Lady007
Summary: My version of what happens after the Series Finale. With Harrison and Hannah in Argentina, Dexter needs a little push from ours truely to get moving.
1. Chapter 1

**A\N Maybe, I'm a little late to the party, but I just binge watched the last season's of Dexter and I needed to know what happened after the series finale. I hope a couple of you can enjoy. Obviously, I own nothing! ;)**

* * *

She had read, reread and re-reread the words she had skimmed over at the café. She read them over and over again, because maybe, if she read them enough times they'd magically change before her eyes, or disappear, or something, anything. But they didn't, they wouldn't and every time she looked at the picture, it hit her like the ton of bricks it was. The article, the words, printed black on white, surely they weren't right, they couldn't be.

Because they were supposed to have the happy ending, supposed to be together. Maybe it had been foolish to think that they could, that they would, but she had. She had let herself believe she could be happy, despite who she was, who she was with, despite what she'd done, what he'd done. She had believed it. She had believed it when she shouldn't have. He was supposed to be here. Dexter was supposed to join them, in Argentina, he was supposed to be with them, not lie in the bottom of the ocean with all of the bodies he had dumped.

She firmly grabbed the edges of the sink with both hands; it wasn't supposed to happen like this. In the privacy of her bathroom, Hannah finally surrendered, to the sadness, the confusion, the anger. She let the tears stream down her cheeks, the emotions flowing out of her as her chest expanded in uneven breaths. She wanted to scream, scream at the top of her lungs, but tears would have to be enough, for now.

There was a shy knock on the door, "Hannah?"

She rolled her eyes up, biting her lower lip and forcing a few slow breaths through her nose, "I'll be out in a minute, Harrison," she managed to call out in voice that hardly cracked.

She couldn't do this alone, here in Argentina. He was supposed to come meet them, he was supposed to help. They were supposed to be together, supposed to start over, have the life she'd always wanted.

He was supposed to be it, her happily ever after, or whatever the adult version of happily ever after was.

But, he was dead, drove through a fucking hurricane, and the only person she'd ever felt, ever feel, comfortable enough to be who she really was with, was gone.

And now, she needed to find a way to tell Harrison, tell him that his father wasn't coming back.

Ever.

And she didn't know if she could.

* * *

They wouldn't shut up, wouldn't leave him alone. He had gotten used to the silence surrounding him, to the solitude, but the voices in his head just wouldn't shut up and every day he pretended not to hear them, pretended not to remember who he was, what he'd caused, who he'd lost. It was almost 4 months later that she appeared, actually materialized herself in front of him.

He had gotten up at dawn, as usual, and went to the sink to splash some ice cold water on his face. Popping his head back up, he saw her, staring at him through the cracked mirror.

She looked around and smiled sarcastically, "Nice fucking, cabin you've got there, Dex. Argentina's sure as hell not what I thought it would be."

He closed his eyes, breathed in a couple of times and opened them up again, and she was gone, as easily as that.

Silently, he went over to the oven, putting a pot on to boil, adding some water and oats, stirring the mixture with a wooden spoon. His breakfast had been a la Oliver Twist lately, not that he deserved any better. He jerked back when he saw her, leaning on the worn out desk he used as dining room table. Not even bothering to transfer his food in a bowl, he sat down beside his sister and started eating.

Chuckling, she added, "Porridge? Kind of new at this. But I am in the right fucking century, right? When's the last time you've had a steak?"

Bringing the spoon to his mouth, he asked mouth full, "What are you doing here, Deb?"

She laughed, "You know, I'm not really here, fucktard. But you are." She made a disgusted grin, "Seriously, what are you doing in this hell hole?"

"Just go, Deb."

She laughed again, "Go? I'm your damn conscience, a fucking ghost. I'm not going anywhere. I can do whatever I fucking feel like," she said as she roamed around, looking at the little of personal items he had, "Cozy little life you have there, big bro, fucking happy I ain't here to see that."

"I'm fine," he said as he dumped the pot in the sink, not bothering to wash it.

"You used to be a clean monster, fucking neurotic even," she stated, looking into the sink, "Dexter I knew wouldn't have let that sit there for a second."

"Yeah, well, that Dexter's gone. I have to go work."

"Yeah, go do that. Go cut some fucking wood. Do that, while your son's somewhere, thinking you're dead, being raised by a serial killer on the run in Argen-fucking-tina. Nice move dumping him on her by the way. That's really love, asshat."

"They're both better off without me. I destroy everything I love, leaving a trail of bodies behind, and me, I'm fucking indestructible. I drive through a hurricane and still come back on top."

"And who's going to explain the monsters, huh?"

"Hannah's going to be a great mother to Harrison. There is no doubt about that in my head. She loves him as much as I do, and he loves her. He doesn't need me. They're safer without me. This," his gaze moved around the room, "I'm doing this for them."

"That's bullshit, Dex. You don't even know where they are, don't even know they're safe; Elway can be a persistent son of a bitch. Your son and the woman you claimed to love, the woman you fucking made me compromise everything I believe for… again, you don't even have a fucking clue how they are. And you're here cutting wood or transporting wood or… I have no idea what you're actually doing, but seriously? You were once the infamous Bay Harbor Butcher, now you're here murdering... wood? What-the-fuck?"

"Dexter Morgan died with you, he died in the hospital, he died on the boat, and he died again driving through Laura. He's dead and now, I'm just this shell of a man. This shell that just won't die."

"You're an asshole, Dexter. Because I'm dead, but you're not, so stop pretending like you are. I can't feel, I can't love, but you can. You still think about them, that's how you know you're not dead. Every time you catch yourself wondering what they're doing, there's your proof you're human, and as much as you want to, you'll never be able to shut it off. It's too late."

"I was doing a pretty banged up job, before you showed up."

"Like hell you were."

He sat back down, "It hurts so fucking much, Deb."

"Welcome to fucking planet Earth, Dex. You wanted to love; you have to be prepared to be heartbroken. Shit happens and it takes the crap out of you. Just because you've never felt it before doesn't mean you can't get over it. People deal with shit every single day, so can you. Now you get back up and you go be happy again."

"Deb, I can't."

"Fucking snap out of it," she screamed, "I told her to take care of you guys, told Hannah, but now I'm telling you. You have to take care of them, Dex. If you think its noble and all, it's not. There's still time for you. Go, fucking be happy before I find a way to really come back and shove my foot down your ass," she said nodding before heading towards the door.

She smiled in his direction, shooting him a, "And the beard, shitloads of awful, Dex." She shook her head, shivering as she added, "Euh. It really has to go."

"Deb?"

She turned around at the arch of the door, her hand rested on the frame, and he added, "I'm sorry, Deb. I'm really sorry."

"I know," she smiled, and just like that, she was gone.

He stood still for a moment, unsure what his next move should be. He breathed in, grabbed his coat and headed out the door.

He needed to go to work.

* * *

A faint noise made her slowly open her eyes, shifting her position in the bed, she saw him, standing beside her bed, holding his monkey tightly.

A quiver in his voice he asked tentatively, "Mom?"

She lifted her head from the pillow and asked gently, "What is, honey? You have another nightmare?"

Harrison sniffled, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand as he nodded.

She smiled gently, patting the empty space on the bed beside her, "Come on up."

Hannah sat up in the bed, opening up her arms so he could cuddle as close as he wanted to. He wrapped his arms around her stomach, his head nested on her chest. She rubbed soothing circles on his back, "It was only a dream, sweetie. It's over now." She kissed the top of his head, "Do you want to tell me about it?"

He mumbled, still holding on tightly to the woman he now called mom, "It was the dragon."

She sighed, kissing his head again and running her finger through his light hair, the dragon was a recurring one. He continued, "We were in a tower, there were lots of steps to climb. There was fire, but we had our fire-fighter helmets, so we ran. There were monkeys and tigers showing us the way, but they were nice. Everyone got the top, we almost had it. Then the dragon took Aunt Deb and he took daddy, then he took Dan and he took you too."

He looked up, tears streaming on his cheeks, "And I was all alone."

Her heart broke at the words, as she felt his grip tighten around her, "Oh baby, it's okay. I'm still here; I'm not going anywhere."

She hummed and rubbed his back until his whimpers had faded, and finally when she thought that he had fallen asleep, she gently laid him down on the pillow beside her, "Sweet dreams," she whispered.

Not opening his eyes, he exhaled as he mumbled, "I really miss Daddy."

"So do I, sweetie. So do I," she added as she gently kissed his forehead.

* * *

**Thoughts?**


	2. Chapter 2

"We're still here," Deb sighed as she fell backwards on the bed. Placing her hands behind her head, she added, "I honestly thought you'd be halfway there by now."

"Deb, I can't go back," he answered, ruffling a towel through his hair.

"_Can't. _You can't?" she asked with an inch of sarcasm. "Just say you won't, Dex," she stated, annoyed.

He got a shirt out of the drawer, pulling it over his head, "It's just not about what I want anymore."

"I hate seeing you like that. It's been more than 6 months. You've mourned, you've grieved, thanks for that, big brother. But now, fucking snap out of it."

He sighed, "You should have shot me when you had the chance. Everyone that gets close to me dies. You should know. Laguerta, Vogel, Zac, Miguel… Rita-"

"You fucking killed Miguel?"

"Even when I do the right thing it's wrong. I'm wrong. I'm the problem here, Deb, the common denominator. I tried to have it all and now… I don't deserve the happy ending."

"Maybe you don't, and Hannah probably doesn't either, but Harrison, he sure as hell does. He didn't ask for this. He didn't deserve any of it. You took the coward way out and you know it. I told you this wasn't your fault. You aren't responsible for my life, but you're responsible for his. You're his goddamn father, Dex. Don't be a dick and let him grow up without a dad. Starting over, starting over without me, it wasn't supposed to look like this. Fuck, Dex. You told them you'd come back. So that's what you'll do."

He sighed, biting his bottom lip.

She arched an eyebrow, her mouth open, about to say something, clearly annoyed, and he smiled tentatively.

"What?" she snapped.

"I've missed you."

She smiled back at him, rolling her eyes as she tilted her head slightly to side.

He grabbed his coat from the back of the chair as he called out, heading to the door, "I wouldn't even know where to start."

"You always find a way," she stated, jumping off the bed and following him.

"It's been months," he added as he put his coat on and closed the door behind him. Once outside, the wind gave him chills, making him pull his coat tightly around him.

"I don't know how you fucking stand this god damned weather."

He chuckled and she continued, "Somehow, I don't believe they'll be that hard to find, not like she's a fucking chameleon. Hannah didn't even try and conceal her identity when fleeing the country as a wanted _fugitive_; I somehow don't think this'll be any different. Seriously, how fucking hard would it have been to dye her hair? Sorry Dex, but your girl, not the sharpest crayon in the box. She isn't very good at this."

"Deb!" he exclaimed, bringing his pace to a stop.

"See, I knew that'd get a reaction," she smiled slyly, walking right past him.

He shook his head, though he couldn't contain the smile.

Deb turned towards her brother, shrugging her shoulders, "It's a fucking miracle she still hasn't got caught yet."

He breathed out loudly, "Okay, Deb."

"Okay," she repeated with more confidence.

They both just stood there, staring at each other as Dexter's mind went to Harrison, to Hannah…

Deb broke the silence, "You're going to need a fucking computer."

* * *

Harrison walked down the stairs, rubbing his eyes with one hand as he held on to the ramp with the other.

Hannah turned her head, diverting her attention away from the paper she was reading, she smiled, "Hey, early bird, you sleep okay?"

He nodded, still very much in sleep as he sat down at the table beside her and placed his head over his arms on the table.

Running her fingers through his hair, Hannah told him, "Honey, if you're still tired, it's still very early." The morning rays had almost just started to hit the dining room's east window, "You can go back to bed. It's Saturday, no school."

"Mommy, we can't!" he exclaimed as his head popped back up.

"What? Why?" she faked, but she knew exactly what had gotten the little man out of bed this morning. It was all he'd been talking about, all week.

"I don't want to miss the tournament! It's supposed to be the best. Luis said the whole team gets to take the bus, they give us oranges at halftime and we get to eat McDonalds for lunch!"

"Not if I have anything to do with that," she joked.

Harrison's eyes widened, his mouth open about to protest, but when he saw her warm smile he realised she was joking. "Hey!" he smiled, making her laugh.

"The bus leaves at 9," she briefly checked her watch before adding, "Which gives us an almost 3 hour lee-way."

"Only three hours! Whoa! We need to hurry, I better go change!" the boy exclaimed as he jumped off the chair.

"We've got time, 3 hours is a very long ti-" she chuckled, but he was already running back up the stairs, sleep seemingly gone from his body.

She got up, shaking her head, and went to the bottom of the stairs, "Your uniform's hanging in the laundry room!" she called out.

"Oh!" he exclaimed as he speed out of his room, his sock clad feet sliding on the floor as he pulled his pyjama shirt back down. He quickly flew down the stairs.

Hannah swept him off his feet as he was about to rush past her, pulling him in her arms, "How about we slow down for a minute, Dash, huh? You should keep a bit of that energy for the game."

He sighed, placing his arms around her neck and looking her in the eyes with all the seriousness he could conjure, "I don't want to be late."

"Let's have breakfast first, so you don't get your jersey dirty. Then you can change. Wouldn't want you to run around with a big stain on your pretty orange uniform, now wouldn't we?" she said as she tapped her index on his nose. "I promise you, Harrison, we will not be late for the bus."

"Okay," he answered, resigned, tilting his head to the side.

Putting him back on the floor, Hannah gently pushed him towards the kitchen and asked, "Pancakes or eggs?"

"Pancakes!" he exclaimed, bringing his fists in the air, smiling.

* * *

"20 miles for an internet connection," Deb complained, "That's just wrong."

"What did you expect?"

The door dinged as Dexter pushed it, entering the Internet-Café. The few customers turned their heads in his direction, but once they realised he was just another lumberjack, uninteresting, unattractive and unworthy of their attention, they quickly went back to their coffees and silent conversations.

After ordering a coffee and paying for half an hour, Dex sat down beside his sister, in front of one of the computers. Quickly opening an internet tab, he whispered, "I'm pretty sure I can remember the bank account she wired our money to; I just hope Hannah hasn't changed the password since."

Deb arched an eyebrow, trying to conceal a smile.

"Shut up," he added as he typed in the 8 digit password.

The woman at the registry eyed him suspiciously, and he chuckled "Yeah. So. Looks like I'm talking to myself. Probably am though."

"Well, the beard makes you look like fucking retard, so I guess it's kind of fitting."

"Nice one, Deb," he added, as he let out an exhale when the page finished loading and the account's information was revealed.

"Yeah well, I already told you to lose it… so."

Deb looked over his shoulder at the screen, "Plummer? What the hell kind of name is Plummer?"

"It's the identities we got. When your girlfriend's a fugitive, wanted for murder, you shut up and take what they give you. Plus, I wanted fake identities that would let us keep our first names. So, I wasn't very picky."

"The Plummer Family. Shit, Dex," she laughed loudly, "Dexter Fucking Plummer."

"Hannah got to be Claire Thompson for a while, but I didn't want to mix Harrison up, with new names. And married couple with their kid is really less of a hassle at customs."

"I nominate Professor Plummer in the carefully plastic-wrapped room with a knife," added Deb chuckling, clearly not listening to her brother's explanation,

"Yeah, yeah," he added, deciding he was going to ignore her too.

"Do I win something?"

He rolled his eyes as he scrolled through the account information.

"So, does this list Hannah _Plummer's _place of residence?" Deb asked, placing her chin on Dexter's shoulder.

"No but it does state a list of the past month's transactions. So, it's a start. Looks like they're in Necochea, or close."

"You still have your fake ID?"

"Yeah, I had it on me when I drove though Laura, and I kind of held on to it. Why?"

"Then what are we fucking sitting around here for?"

* * *

The bus ride home was infinitely quieter than the ride to the field. Three games in one day were enough to burn out any active 5 year old, and Harrison was no exception. The boy was dead to the world, his mouth ajar and his head resting on her side.

She never thought she'd be the type of person to spend her Saturday sitting under the scorching sun for 8 hours, watching 20 or so five year olds kick a ball to each other, and actually enjoy it, but she had, and this day had made Harrison so happy. Like the kid he was supposed to be, the kid he used to be, before he lost everyone he had once called family. Long time ago, she'd given up on the idea of the life where she'd be seated in a bus, crammed with parents and kids, with an exhausted child drooling on her shirt while he slept. This was probably not what she had in mind when she said she wanted a family once upon a time, but she wouldn't give this up for anything, wouldn't change Harrison out for the world.

She gently shifted her arm starting to numb around the boy, and the city lights reflected on the scar in her hand, the one that shaped her in more ways than one. As her mind wandered to the lives she took, her thoughts couldn't help but go to the man she'd lost, to the man she loved and lost to the sea.

The first months had been hell. Losing Dexter had stung like shit, realising he wasn't coming back, but it was seeing Harrison cry out for his father night after night, telling her that he missed him, all while trying to stay strong, for her, that had proven to be the most heart wrenching. She had been confused at first, angry, at him, the man who had made her believe that a happy ending was a possibility. Angry for herself, for their son, angry that he didn't choose her, didn't choose them.

Now she just missed him. Missed how she felt when he was with her, accepted, uncensored… whole.

But he had made his choice, Dexter chose Debra. He chose her over them when he drove through the hurricane that day, when he decided he wasn't coming for them, and she wanted to be okay with that, to forgive him, because despite it all, she loved him, always would.

He was it.

As Hannah moved slightly on the seat, Harrison's nose wrinkled while his hand tightly grabbed the bottom of her shirt. He had gotten clingier around her, probably the result of losing everyone around him, but she wasn't the one to complain. She loved feeling his little arms around her, his cheek pressed to her side. She loved him, loved his son, their son. Maybe she should be worried, but maybe, just maybe she needed this as much as he did.

It still stung when she caught herself thinking about Dexter, like at that moment, but at least now she could feel it, the certainty. They were going to be okay.

They had each other and she hoped one day, it would be enough.

* * *

**Any Thoughts? **

**(Seems like I'm the only one that didn't hate Hannah in the show!)**


	3. Chapter 3

"I knew you'd be here for that," he smiled as his sister fell back lazily on the toilet seat cover.

"Wouldn't miss this for the fucking world," Deb added, pulling up her leg, resting her chin on her knee as she continued to observe him.

Dexter got closer to the mirror, examining his face in different angles, "I really think I'm going to miss it," he said.

"Quit stalling and just do it, fuck-face," she added.

He sighed, grabbing the shaving cream and foaming it generously in his palm. After carefully applying it over his cheeks, he brought the open-razor close to his neck and in steady and determined strokes, started shaving off his beard. As the hairs fell into the sink, he could feel the weight coming off, of this mask, this life, of this soulless identity. And when he was finally done, caressing his now smooth face with his fingers, lighter, but feeling naked, exposed; Deb stood up with a grin, her face right next to his in the mirror and stated, "Welcome back, Dexter Morgan. We've missed you."

* * *

Dexter had forgotten how easy normality came to him, how easy it was for him to pretend, to blend through the crowds. It wasn't that he was invisible; he was just average, common. Maybe these were two of the same.

He hadn't been this person in a while, hadn't been himself, this identity he had always assumed to be a cover. It had been a long time since he'd been Dexter.

Dexter Morgan.

It had been a while, and yet he found himself falling into the same patterns easily, like it wasn't a cover, like it was just him, really him.

He had gotten through security; he had gotten through customs. And now he was waiting, waiting patiently for his flight to be called out. But he was early, had anticipated more trouble, more lines, more crowds, and waiting around had never been his thing.

He tapped his foot on the floor, mindlessly fiddling with the ticket between his fingers.

"Would you cut it out, you're making _me_ nervous," Deb snapped.

"Sorry," he whispered, stopping his movements.

"What in the hell is wrong with you?"

He was silent for a second, before answering, "I don't know, I… I feel… _nervous_. I think I need a plan. I can't just _show up_."

"And why the fuck not?" Deb asked, quirking an eyebrow, looking at her brother like he was a complete degenerate.

And sometimes, he felt like one.

He shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head, "I... Eh..."

"You were always a control freak. Just relax, Dex. It's going to be fine. Everything's going to be fucking fine. You're doing the right thing. You weren't meant for the lumberjack bullshit."

"I used to be the perfect monster, had everything in my life perfectly divided, everything in my control. It was survival, just the way Dad thought me. This is all just messed up."

"But you were never a monster, Dex."

He sighed, and both remained silent for a moment. He looked to his sister, the sister he would always deeply care for, and a shy smile formed at the corner of his mouth. He whispered, "Dad tried to mold me into the monster he thought I was, told me to flee human connections, but he was wrong._ I_ was wrong."

She turned towards him, furrowing her brow, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I once thought to myself, if I loved anybody, I'd love you, Deb. But I was wrong, because there was no if, I do love you. And I love Harrison, I love Hannah. I can love, Deb, I can care, and it's that humanity that got you shot, that got you killed. And that's what's scary in all this. I'm both and it isn't the monster that's dangerous, it's the mortal. And that's what I was running away from, the part that made me human, common, that made me accountable."

"Christ Dex, I'd take the perfectly imperfect psychopath over the perfect monster any day. You listened to dad way too much. Believed he knew you better than you knew yourself, maybe things would be different if you hadn't. Or maybe you'd have seen a shitload of prison walls before taking the plunge. We'll never know, but neither can he."

Closing his eyes, he laid back on the seat, leaving his the chatter of the airport terminal take over the silence. She was right, or he hoped she was.

His eyes closed, he asked, "You think I'm gonna fuck Harrison up as much as dad did me?"

She chuckled, "Probably. But I think it's a requirement, not like I wasn't almost as fucked up. I think it's a family trait."

"Yeah…" he sighed, sitting back straight on the plastic airport chair, and asked his gaze fixating on his feet, "You think Hannah's with someone else?"

"Really? That's what you're fucking thinking about right now?" she let out, shaking her head, "You're more human than you know."

He shrugged his shoulder, looking over to his sister, "What if going there is a mistake? What if they don't want me anymore? What if they've moved on? What if they're happy?"

"And what if they're not?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

She rolled her eyes, "Yeah you're probably right. It's been 6 months. Hannah's probably married by now, and Harrison has a new Daddy. Go back to back to fucking up wood."

Dex's eyes narrowed at her, and she added, laughing, "Relax deep-throat, I'm kidding."

"Fucking hilarious," he mumbled under his breath.

"Dex, she came back to Miami, where they were still searching for her murderous ass, for you. She loves you. As for Harrison, you're his father, and that bond is stronger than anything else. They'll be there when you get there."

The flight he was taking got called on the PA and he got up, putting his bag on his shoulder.

Deb muttered, wiping her hands on her thighs, "Holy fuck, we're going to Argentina."

"We're going to Argentina," he repeated as he took his place behind the people, already lining up at the tarmac.

"Guess I'll see you there big brother, I didn't buy a ticket for this one. Maybe we'll finally go hiking?" Deb smiled.

"Maybe we will, Deb. Maybe we will," he added looking to the sky.

* * *

"Chop, Chop, little man," she said clapping her hands to the boy seated on his bedroom floor with his trains, which didn't budge at the sound, like she was invisible, like she was a mute.

"Harrison!" the woman snapped.

His head shot up to his mother, his eyes pleading, "Five more minutes. Pleeeeeaaaaaase."

"I already gave them to you. Now up, I want you dressed."

"But mo-"

"No. No moms, no pleases, no kisses, or hugs. I want you dressed."

Getting him out of bed had never been the problem with Harrison, he was an early riser, just like her, just like Dex. He didn't need an alarm, didn't need her to come wake him. Most days her daily struggle consisted of prying him away from his toys, stripping him of his jammies, and into his school uniform, like this morning.

But she couldn't really complain, because life was good again. If her problems, for the rest of her life consisted of getting ready her son for school, she would lead a pretty uneventful life.

And maybe that's what she needed.

Maybe she'd lived enough adventures for a lifetime. Maybe she needed uneventful.

And maybe Harrison did too.

That's what they had been running towards, running for, normality or the chance at normality. She had just never expected she'd be doing it alone.

But you make with the cards you've been dealt, and that's what she was doing.

She placed the uniform on the bed, "Now when I come back in 5 minutes, you better be dressed, you get that, little man?"

Harrison nodded. He knew when to push buttons, but he also knew when to listen, and right now was a time to listen. He got to his feet, and put his plastic trains away.

She didn't even have to go back up, because a couple of minutes later, Harrison walked down, fully dressed, and went to Hannah, placing his hands on her lap, stating, "All dressed, mom."

Hannah smiled, tapping her index on his nose "Your book bag is packed by the door. Myra and Axel will be there in a bit. Sit. Toasts will be out in a second-"

"Golden not-"

"Brown. I know, monkey. Sit," she instructed, getting up from her chair and kissing the top of his blond head.

"Peanut butter or honey?" she asked from the kitchen.

He thought, bringing his index to his mouth and looking up before, stating, decided, "Honey."

"What?" she asked, arching an eyebrow his direction.

"Honey," he repeated, matter-of-factly.

"What?" she added.

His eyes narrowed to her, before widening, as he understood, chuckling, he tried again, "Honey, _please_, mom."

"Coming right up," she added, smiling as she winked to her son.

* * *

**Sorry for the long wait. I had trouble getting this one out and getting the characters right... Any constructive criticism is more than welcome. Tell me what you thought. Or don't, I'm not the boss of you. ;)**


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